


Promises

by CanvasConstellations



Series: Wrap my heart in a nest of stars [2]
Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 05:42:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3839209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanvasConstellations/pseuds/CanvasConstellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She falls asleep in the grass, with his warm hand in hers, his fingers tracing idle patters on her skin. He watches her, the curve of her nose, the dance of moonlight on her cheeks and he wonders how she can be real.<br/>(He thinks about kissing her, but doesn’t.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

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> **Prompt: Under the rain**

After it's all over, after the dust has settled and Levana is gone, gone for good, after everything, he runs. _They_ run. She wants to see the world, and he's a little too tired of court. They have to go back at some point, of course, if Cinder's angry comms have anything to say, but they have a little while to themselves for now. A moment to breathe. 

He takes her to see the ruins of castles, and vast, vast oceans. He takes her to the pyramids, to Stonehenge, and to the movies. They laugh at the bad dialog, Cress clenches his hand at the scary bits, and Thorne throws popcorn at the row in front of them. They lie down later under the stars and she tells him about all the constellations. 

(He thinks about kissing her, but doesn't.) 

He tells her about Los Angeles, and how you can't see the stars there, as if they don't exist. She looks at him, wide-eyed and asks him to her tell more about his home. He almost winces at the word. 

(Yet he twins his fingers through hers and tells her about everything and nothing.) 

She falls asleep in the grass, with his warm hand in hers, his fingers tracing idle patters on her skin. He watches her, the curve of her nose, the dance of moonlight on her cheeks and he wonders how she can be real. 

He has to wake her when it starts to rain. 

The sound of their feet is a whisper against the grass. A frantic hush-hush as they run (and that is all they know for now; how to run, run, run). The rain is a roar, loud, insistent, _pouring._ Cress laughs, a half-scream sort of unabashed laugh that he hasn't heard from her before. 

He stops. His hand, still in hers, tugs her back with him. They stand there for a moment, under the roar of the rain and the stars. Cress' laughter fades away from her lips, but remains dancing in the corner of her eyes. He thinks about kissing her, about old promises, and a question she had asked him once upon a time, with a broken voice and a broken heart. 

_(He wants to kiss her. He wants to run.)_

He didn't have an answer for her then. He has now. Though he doesn't think he should tell her that. He remembers what her father had said to him. He remembers all the things he's ever done. He remembers their talk about heroes, and even after all this time, he doesn't really think he's one. At least not the kind she deserves. 

"Captain?" she asks with a soft tilt of her head. 

She's probably not real, he decides. 

A raindrop catches on her lashes. They're both horribly soaked through, and Thorne knows that they should break this moment or whatever this is, and rush for the Rampion before they catch a cold. Bloodshot eyes and a runny nose are not the best look for him. 

She clenches his hand tight. The smear of laughter in her eyes melts away to worry. He's never been wide-eyed and speechless before. 

"What's wrong?" she asks. The rain almost drowns her voice, just as it drains the flush from her cheeks. Her lips are pale too, and he yearns to kiss some colour into them. A yearn that manifests into an ache that throbs in time with his heart. 

He plays her question again and again in his mind. An endless loop that is almost torture. He shouldn't tell her. He shouldn't have an answer at all. He should run. He _wants_ to run. But he wants to say the words too. He wants her to know. 

"I think," he says. He holds her hand tight and pulls her a step closer. Lightning flashes and paints the sky into daylight for just a moment. Then, three heartbeats later, thunder rumbles. Cress squeaks. 

_(I think I'm in love with you)_

"I think we should go back to the Rampion." He swallows, then smiles. She frowns, knowing that wasn't what he had wanted to say, but he's already running, and pulling her in with him. _Hush-hush,_ the grass whisper of their retreat. Thorne bites his tongue and holds on to Cress just a little too tight. 

In their hurry, Cress slips once, but before she can fall, Thorne pulls her up, steadies her. Three steps in, he slips, and in an effort to help, Cress tumbles down along with him. They're a mess of limbs and laughter and mud and by the time they've stepped out from the lash of the rain and into the carefully controlled warmth of the Rampion, they're both giggling helplessly. 

He stops laughing first. Their hands and their clothes are covered in mud. There is a brown splotch on Cress' cheek. She's standing so close he could hear her heartbeat if he tried. 

So he kisses her then, because he can't really bring himself to say three little words. She's just as surprised as when he had kissed her the first time, but now her hands manage to find themselves around his neck, though tentative at first. He tastes rainwater on her lips, and chocolate on her tongue. He tastes _home_ in her, and he traces the letters down her throat. 

When he pulls back, the colour on her cheeks is back, twice as bold, though he would like to bite a little more red into her lips. He kisses her again, softly this time, languidly, drawing tiny squeaks and fluttery sighs. 

She looks dazed, and he smiles his crooked smile. Their breathing, though unsteady falls in sync. There is confusion in her eyes, but also a hint of knowing. 

The words are still stuck in his throat, unwilling to be swallowed back, but unwilling to be let out either. So he keeps them at the tip of his tongue and kisses her once more. 

Just to make sure she's found her answer.


End file.
